Leave
by AngmarBucket
Summary: Jericho receives a message from someone from the past: leave Jump City or suffer.


"What does Slade _want_?"

Robin repeated the question and Jericho was glad no one expected him to respond. He had a nasty gash on his head, which had finally begun to hemorrhage. His blonde hair was matted unpleasantly with the drying blood, but the look of it made the wound seem worse than it was, which meant no one was going to ask him for much input in his current state. The fact that he was a visitor here and therefore wasn't expected to have any familiarity with the Titan's declared Public Enemy Number One was another reason he knew he was safe from questions; nobody would ask him for any input on this case. And the fact that they still found it difficult to communicate with him sometimes, especially in stressful moments, was the third reason he felt safe to withdraw from the questions the Titans bounced back and forth between them. The words were flying fast and leaps of intuition were being made and he allowed himself to become almost invisible, safe from the speculation.

Sometimes Jericho took advantage of his inability to speak, and this was one of those times.

_Stupid to come here,_ he thought as the Titans dispersed around the main room or beyond; as they applied first aid to their scrapes or went to the mini fridge to recharge, or in Raven's case went to take a shower. It had been stupid to stay in Jump City longer than he should have, after the other honorary Titans had gone home. And stupid to think that maybe, since _home _was such a flexible word for him, this place could be his home for a while. He'd bonded with Beast Boy and was growing to learn the other's personalities as well, and he didn't need much to live on. The familyatmosphere had really attracted him to stick around.

In the short time here, Jericho had dared to shrug off his wariness and he'd adopted the role of a semi-permanent guest for nearly the past month, and apparently he'd stayed nearly a month too long. As they recuperated, Beast Boy and Starfire eating, Robin and Cyborg sitting and arguing over what had just happened, Jericho wondered when the invisible day had arrived and he'd officially over-stayed his welcome. Had he been tolerated for only a week? two? Definitely by three, given the production he'd just seen.

The occasional robbery or hostage situation had been easy to adapt to; he'd helped out with his powers before, even prior to meeting the Titans. Jericho liked to keep to himself but he knew how to be useful when people needed it. But this had been a concentrated effort to terrorize, to destroy, to break everything in sight and he'd had little to contribute.

Jericho didn't want to be paranoid; didn't want to make himself the center of everything. Indeed, there was a good chance, with the years he'd gained, the changes he'd made, the new name he'd adopted, that the Titan's worst antagonist hadn't even recognized him at all. The menace calling itself Slade was Jump City's resident darkness. He was bound to show himself eventually after his long hiatus, whether or not Jericho was present in the city.

Yet despite the steps Jericho had taken to change his identity, and despite the multitude of perfectly logical excuses he could list to reassure himself that he was well-hidden, he couldn't believe anything but the one suspicion that gripped his brain and wouldn't let go.

_He knows._

Obsessively, Jericho ran the events again through his mind. He looked withdrawn, he was aware of that, but everyone dealt with the aftershocks of battle differently, and the Titans assumed their own recovery process and left him to himself. He appreciated that no one would bother him as he tried to work things out in his head.

Just a few hours ago, things had been normal, even relaxed. Jump City's bleaker world had gotten brighter after the defeat of the Brotherhood and the criminal element had returned largely to the non-meta crimes the police were used to handling. The Titans kept vigilant but enjoyed more freedom to themselves. Today hadn't offered any signs of being any different than the other free days of the past week. Jericho had even drawn a picture for Raven, a dark bird on a vine, and had given it to her when the others weren't around. Raven had blushed slightly through her pallid skin, her whole face light pink, and Jericho had allowed himself to imagine what that might mean. He'd begun to imagine more days here, not just with the Titans, but with her. The tower had guest rooms, and while the one labeled "Terra" was permanently off-limits there was still a whole corridor to spare.

Then the call came. _No big deal_, Jericho had thought. Robin said it had something to do with a malfunction with one of the freight trains that ran outside the city. A few trains had run off the tracks and the Titans possessed the power to clean up quickly, and serve as guard in case the accident was actually something else at work.

They'd barely arrived to assist with helping the workers trapped within a crushed boxcar spilled over with its cargo when droids crawled from seemingly everywhere. The droids were hunched, humanoid figures with black and silver armor, and orange on their faces. The eyes were purely mechanical, no pupils or humanity present. There had been at least fifty of them, and they'd moved like a swarm.

Jericho was all but useless in a melee. Starfire and Raven called on otherworldy abilities, while Cyborg was more than a fair match for robots and Beast Boy, though still vulnerable, could transform into anything. Even Robin could maneuver through some of the robots' attacks. But Jericho was useless this time.

His special ability, the one he still couldn't fully explain even to himself, was the power to pass into someone else and take them hostage. All he needed to do was catch their gaze and he could capture them from the inside, possess them and wear them like a change of clothes. It was a great way to stop a robbery, by taking the gunman hostage from within, but robots didn't have anything to enter; no flesh to hijack. Why machines were beyond his power he didn't totally know. All he knew was that he needed living eye contact to activate it.

The hit to his head didn't come from one of the droids, or he'd probably be dead from the force delivered by a metallic skeleton. The hit instead came from debris stirred up in the fight. Jericho had stayed on the fringes, helped the train workers out of the way, sent them running to safety, and he'd almost managed to remain unscathed before the larger white, headless H.I.V.E. robots rushed in like lifeless cavalry.

By the end of the attack, one of the smaller droids had nabbed something from the control station and the damage to the tracks, trains and their cargo was likely in the millions. Several of the workers had been wounded. The Titans had beaten back the wave of metal bodies but nearly a third got away before they could be scrapped along with the others.

"Why does Slade care about trains?" Beast Boy asked out loud on the way home.

"Dunno. The droid just took some computer stuff. Mostly old records," Cyborg said. He'd run a scan on the network computer in the ransacked office of the control building. "Nothing that secretive was there. The trains don't run weapons or anything. All he could've gotten were old traffic records, mostly."

"He must've taken something else," Robin said, and slammed his fist into his palm to vent his frustration. Even through his mask Jericho could see his intensity; his anger. "Slade took something. We have to find out what."

They drove bruised and disconcerted back to the Tower. "What does he want this time? What could he want? What's he planning? Why now after so long?" The questions didn't end. Sometimes the Titans switched to complaining about a sore arm or a dizzy feeling, but Robin was thinking, sometimes out loud, with a determined scrunch of his face and twitching fingers on the dashboard.

The next day was one of recovery and work. Robin and Cyborg studied the Jump City freight train system. Starfire and Raven were told to conduct interviews with witnesses. Beast Boy went back and forth between everybody. Jericho mostly pointed at his head and indicated he was tired and wanted to stay in his guest room.

What did Slade want? That was the question, and the past few years had made it the most important question for the Titans. But Jericho knew what Slade wanted and it wasn't trains or supplies or even to terrorize Jump City.

Maybe a year ago, if Slade had sent such a demonstration, Jericho would've immediately complied. But now he was torn between fear of Slade's retribution and the feeling of belonging he'd somehow achieved here. Until the Titans, family had been a past memory, a thing that he had given up looking for.

_Don't make me do this._

Jericho had few choices now. He could stay and risk another unnecessary attack, or he could say his good-byes and pretend it was just time to move on. There was a third option, but it would require too many painful truths, and he didn't know if it would even matter in the long run.

The third day after the attack he went for a walk in the city. Starfire gave him a haircut that morning to make it look a little better with the gash. For his walk Jericho changed into a plain hooded sweatshirt and jeans and went to the park as if he were any other citizen, not the silent kid with the silly outfit. And as long as he kept his sunglasses on, no one could make out the strange black coloration of his eyes.

It wasn't fair that he should have to consider leaving. And it wasn't fair that Slade was doing this to him. Even if this was all made up in his head and Slade didn't recognize him or care about him, the whole situation wasn't fair.

He touched his throat, where his scar was hidden under his shirt, and Jericho reminded himself that life typically wasn't fair. The scar made him think about a broken family and lonely wandering. No, he conceded, life wasn't fair at all. Why should it be?

Jericho bought a pizza and soda and walked the parked, following the edge of the lake. The rabbits had come out with the evening and now grazed in the slightly damp grass, nipping at the occasional flower bud. Jericho found a low tree which had half-sunk off the bank near the water, bent almost horizontally and branches hanging over the lake's surface. He sat in the bend and watched the ducks and geese move in small groups. After a few minutes he tossed his pizza crust into the lake and one large goose bullied its way to devour it before the others. He was away from the few stragglers, no one in sight. Too bad he hadn't brought his guitar. When he needed to think, strumming the cords and listening to some music helped him collect and organize his thoughts.

As he watched the sun hover over the horizon, Jericho sensed someone behind him before he saw anyone. There was a faint brush of grass-no rabbit's movement-and he jumped off the tree before the skull-faced person behind him could land a blow on him. Jericho slid down the bank, feet brushing the water, and scampered up the bank and around the cloaked figure with the white mask and pupil-less lenses over his eyes.

With the way the mask had been built he had no way to make eye contact. Jericho didn't have enough fighting experience to handle him on his own. The person, whatever his name, was lithe and muscular and he had built himself for upper-body strength. His cloak was thick and his outfit looked as thought it had been designed for altercations.

"Here's how this is gonna go," the figure said with a filtered, tinny voice. He held up a gloved hand, which was closed around a crimson, X-shaped blade. "You are going to run. If I catch you, I'm not going to go easy on you."

Jericho ran. The trees on the water's edge provided some cover for him to thread in and out of as he raced for safety, but the rapid footsteps of the skull-faced guy never lost their steady pursuit. As they ran the ground gave way to docks installed for boats and swimmers. The marina loomed ahead, its yachts and sailboats shadowy forms on the dark water. The sun had just slipped down behind the lake and Jericho didn't know if that was good or bad for his escape.

He turned onto one of the docks near the boat house, which was empty, and raced inside. The heavy footfalls pounded closer. Jericho stepped back into the darkness as the creaking of old wood neared him, hoping that he wouldn't be noticed.

His comm was in his uniform on the floor of his room. He had no way to signal for help.

"Come out," his pursuer called into the building as he walked in. Somehow he blended completely with the darkness Jericho held his breath, letting it out only rarely and softly. He inched along the wall and hoped he could find a good moment to race out. If he could find someone else, he could use their phone or at least hope this guy didn't want to be seen by anyone besides his target.

He felt someone grab him by the shoulder of his shirt and pull him outside. Jericho swung at him, and managed a few hits, but without a larger body to control he did little to weaken his attacker. With a kick his legs were knocked out from under him and he was shoved to the dock. His attacker kicked him in the abdomen, then raised his X-shaped weapon.

Another set of footsteps hit the dock, and Jericho looked up, hoping for a friend, fearing that the attacker had a partner.

It was neither. As he saw the large form, clad in leather and metal, looking so much like one of the droids from a few days ago, Jericho froze, as if that would be enough to avoid detection.

"I told you to leave him for me," Slade said, not looking at Jericho. "In case you haven't noticed, Mr. X, he's not the best fighter."

"You didn't specify well enough," X returned.

"It should be obvious that he's not worth overly subduing."

X just shrugged. "Got carried away. Trying to earn my pay. Don't tip me, I guess."

Slade seemed to consider him, head inclined at X slightly. "Go," he said finally. "You should fell lucky that I'm in a good mood-your money is already transferred. I don't want to see you again unless I ask for you."

"Fine by me," X said. He walked over Jericho and passed by Slade without any safe distance between them, almost as if he were making a point. Reckless behavior like that could tempt Slade to overreact, but X left untouched. When he was gone, Slade walked toward Jericho, who quickly stood up and prepared for another flight-or a confrontation if it came to that. With Slade it would be very short.

"Enjoying the city?" Slade asked.

Jericho just took a step back. Slade wouldn't expect a verbal reply, but he wasn't going to answer in any capacity. He owed this man no words of any kind.

"Jump City is a harsh place at night," Slade continued. "You shouldn't go out alone, unprepared." When Jericho didn't respond, not even with a single gesture, Slade's composure changed. He rushed at Jericho and grabbed him by the upper arm. If his vocal cords had still worked, Jericho would've screamed from the almost . "_Don't ignore me, Joseph_."

Jericho pointed across the lake with his free hand, to the tower on the island in the distance. The lights were on and it was easy to spot; a literal beacon.

"Why?" Slade demanded. He squeezed harder on Jericho's arm until he nearly had tears in his eyes.

_Friends_, was all Jericho could sign, as it was just one word and quickest to get across. It was still hard though, to link his fingers correctly enough for Slade to understand.

"You should get new friends, then," Slade told him. His masked face was so close Jericho could hear Slade's voice ringing through his metallic mask as it escaped the breathing slits. "These ones could lead you to a bad end."

Jericho yanked his arm, and to his relief Slade released him. As he massaged the pained area, he scowled openly at Slade. After a moment's respite, he gestured the equivalent of _Why would you care?_

Slade was allowed few open expressions, but his body language said it all. The slow lowering of his head, the closed fists and narrowed eye. It was so different but also, in a superficial way, familiar, and it brought back the long-buried childlike meekness he would have responded to long ago. This time, he didn't allow it to envelope him. He freely stared back. _Why would you care? Why would you care? _he repeated.

"What I care about is not your concern," Slade told him. "What should concern you is that I can make life here very difficult for you. I gave you a chance to leave, more than enough time, but you've insisted on placing yourself where you don't belong. Look at the destruction that's happened just in the past few days because of you. But even now you're trying to defy me." He drew closer and Jericho continued to glare at him, not ready to challenge him but refusing to shrink back. They were almost touching again.

"What will I have to do to make you understand," Slade said, his voice lower and almost a growl, "that if you stay here, _you will no longer be safe_? Do you think I'll go easy on you? If you continue to associate with the Titans, you'll be treated like one of the Titans. And sooner or later, everyone in that tower-every man, woman, or _freak-_is going to meet a bad end."

Jericho peered deeper into Slade's eye. The eye was dark blue, bright, still full of vitality even after all these years. He concentrated on it, dared to try to make contact, but it was like knocking uselessly on a locked door. Slade jerked sharply, but was only caught off-guard momentarily.

"As if I wouldn't know better than to prepare for _that_," Slade said as he tapped near his eye. "I'm not sure if I'm proud or not that you'd even dare to try taking hold of me, but do it again and I'll end things here and now. Understood?"

_Had to try_, Jericho told him.

"You should know I'm always prepared for everything. That includes you and whatever decision you choose to make."

Slade hesitated, then laid a heavy hand on Jericho's shoulder. Despite the glove, the hand was warm, almost hot. "I tolerated this honorary Titan nonsense because it wasn't worth my time to bother with. But you're standing in front of a steep precipice now. I encourage you to look deep into what you're about to dive into."

Jericho looked away. He felt, more than saw, Slade leave.

When he returned to the tower Starfire slammed into him to deliver one of her back-bruising hugs. Jericho hugged back out of reflex, smiled again out of reflex, then indicated he was going to bed. He quickly made for the corridor to his room.

The door to Robin's work room was open. Robin was inside talking with Cyborg.

"Still doesn't make sense," Robin said. "There must've been something taken, something we're overlooking."

"I'm telling you that I swept over everything a million times. There's nothing there."

Jericho didn't realized he'd paused in front of the door until they looked up.

"Hey, Jericho," Cyborg said. "Have a good walk?"

Jericho nodded.

"Sorry for leaving the door open," Robin said. "Just working with Cy, and he's been in and out. We're trying to make some sense of things."

Jericho nodded again, as if tolerant of their behavior, and pointed to his room. Robin said, "Oh, yeah, of course. Have a good night."

_"Trying to make sense things." _Jericho felt the same way.

As he sat on his bed, he wondered seriously for the first time if he should just tell them. It would be a decision Slade wouldn't abide, but it would allow him to keep his friends, assuming they were the loyal people he thought they were. Slade would have no power over him then. There would be no secrets left to hide and Jericho could dare Slade to make the next move.

He didn't have too long to make his decision though. Slade wasn't someone who patiently waited around.

It was so tempting, to tell them all. To just say it. Write it down, sign it with his hands-say it and not hold back.

_What does Slade want, Robin? He doesn't want to kill his son._


End file.
